


Consequences

by quietude_et_douceur



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:30:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietude_et_douceur/pseuds/quietude_et_douceur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, even the smallest of things have terrible consequences. Arthur never thought that a chronically dirty flat could ever turn his life upside down. He learns his lesson the hard way.</p>
<p>Written for the Merlin Mpreg Fest 2013, prompt #28: Arthur is a busy executive that can't seem to get his home life organized. Morgana gifts him with chef/housekeeper/dry cleaning collecting/smart mouthed live in Merlin. Arthur is annoyed at this stranger living in his home but gradually warms to the other man. One night they share a relaxing evening of video games and too much beer that results in unexpected sex. Merlin or Arthur gets pregnant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brunettepet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brunettepet/gifts).



> Thank you so much to eeshbelle for betaing this at the very last minute for me, you're a life saver! And thank you so much to the mods of merlinmpreg for organising this fest and being super helpful.
> 
> I actually started with something completely different but it really wasn't going well. Then at 5:30am on the Sunday after submissions were due, I came up with this idea. I'm so relieved, I was worried I'd never finish my submission in time.

"What do you want?" Arthur said through the barely-open door, exasperation tingeing his words.

Morgana's faux-innocent smile grew wider and she held up a bottle of wine by her head so that Arthur could see it. "Is that any way to treat your favourite older sister?"

"You're my only older sister," Arthur pointed out, not moving. "In fact, you're my only sister."

"Stop trying to buy time with Lion King references. I'm not going away so you might as well let me in."

"You do realise that normal people don't bully their half-siblings into opening the door in order to pretend they have a normal relationship with them, right?"

Still, he opened the door with a long-suffering sigh, even though he was quite looking forward to a bit of company. Evenings were always so quiet and monotonous when he was on his own.

"God, this place is a tip!" was the first thing she said upon entering the lounge. "I thought you said you'd cleaned."

He had cleaned, insofar as he'd taken all the rubbish through to the kitchen bin and put the old mugs and plates in the dishwasher. He'd even remembered to run it! In his defence, it had been a particularly long month since he'd last talked to Morgana, so he couldn't really be held responsible for the mess that had accumulated while he wasn't looking. If he never had to deal with another sales contract again, it would be too soon.

The transaction had started quite smoothly. Both parties had met and agreed to a certain number of terms. Arthur had then drawn up a standard sales contract, taking particular care to include all the previously agreed upon terms, and the representative of the other company had refused it, adamant that those were not the terms that they had agreed to.

After over a month of tense negotiations, his father breathing down his back, constantly reminding him how much this deal meant for the future of the company, a new secretary who was more interested in booking his holidays and buying luxury bags on shopping site, Arthur was absolutely exhausted.

Every night, he'd come home late, chucked his office clothes somewhere on the floor, collapsed onto the sofa, and ordered from whichever take-away menu happened to be closest. That approach had, of course, led to a particularly gruesome incident where the only menu that was within reach – using the remote control to extend his action ratio – happened to be the menu to the most horrible Chinese take-away in the world, if not the universe. Every time he'd eaten there, something had gone horribly wrong.

"Earth to Arthur!" Morgana called, snapping her impeccably manicured fingers before his eyes. "Are you going to get us some glasses or is it Pretend To Be A Student night again, and I wasn't informed?"

"Calm down, Morgana," Arthur huffed. "They're in the kitchen, I'll go and get them."

"Good. While you're at it, why don't you take a few of your take-away cartons with you while I open the window to get some fresh air. It might even get rid of the stench."

**

"This can't go on, Arthur," Morgana said, bringing her half-empty glass of wine up to her lips to take a sip before continuing. "You're twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine, you're the Vice President of one of the most influential companies in the UK. You can't go on living like a bachelor."

It was times like this that reminded Arthur of why he never liked to invite Morgana over for drinks. She always found something to criticise – his hair, his attitude, and now, his private life. In that sense, she was just like their father. No matter what he did, it was never good enough for them.

"It's not that easy, Morgana," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. His own glass stood empty on the coffee table. He should probably get a refill if he was going to have to put up with Morgana's chiding. Maybe he should consider something stronger…

"How hard can it be to just put your dishes in the dishwasher and the rubbish in the bin when you're done?"

"I just forget."

"How does someone 'just forget' to take care of the basics?" Morgana asked pointedly. It was less of a question and more of an accusation, really.

There was always a reason. Most of the time, Arthur barely had any time to himself between getting home from work and dragging himself into his bedroom for a few scant hours of sleep. And if he had a few minutes before leaving for work, he always convinced himself that he would only spill something down his shirt which would involve changing which would involve being late. And the likelihood of him having enough clean office clothes to last the week wasn't good enough for him to risk it.

On the few days Arthur had a little time to himself, the last thing he wanted to do was waste what precious freedom he had on _cleaning_. Even in his head, there was this snide, deriding lilt to the word, like it was below him. And to be honest, he had every reason to think so. The first eighteen years of his life had been spent under his father's roof where an army of cleaners kept the place spotless. He hadn't even had to lift a finger; the whole house was always pristine, from the perfectly trimmed lawn to the perfectly ordered wine cellar.

At eighteen, his father had kicked him out in favour of him going to university where he had had no reason to clean. An unclean flat wasn't going to keep his many conquests away. The consequence of which being that, aged twenty-eight, cleaning wasn't something that came naturally to him. He had an intense dislike for mess, instilled into him from his father's obsession with cleanliness, but it was never enough to get him going.

"I've been busy, Morgana," he sighed.

Morgana got that smirk that would send Arthur running for the hills if his pride could suffer the blow. "I know," she said smugly. "I come bearing a solution to all your problems. Well, at least those that can be solved by a bit of basic cleaning," she amended.

"I don't want to know."

"You need a housekeeper." Before Arthur could even open his mouth to protest, she added: "You remember Gwen, right? Well, she has a friend who's in need of a place to live and I suggested he could stay at your place in exchange for a few basic chores. Needless to say, you'll be getting much more out of him than he'll be getting out of you with your chronic inability to keep this place clean."

"Morgana," he groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. He was too tired to be dealing with this right now.

"Now, Arthur, you know you need help," she said, coming to sit next to him on the sofa. "What do you think Uther would say if he turns up here unexpectedly?"

"Fortunately, that's unlikely to happen," Arthur scoffed. His father has never been much of a father figure to him, more of a distant role model. Someone to look up to, something to aspire to, but he had never been someone who had been there for him in the way Arthur had most desperately needed him to be. He was certain that his father cared about him, in his own way, but it had never been enough. He probably could have dealt with it too, if not for the few pictures he had of both his parents and the murmurs from old acquaintances, the ones that depicted his father as a happy man, one more in touch with his feelings, not the cold, demanding man he had always known.

"I heard he's been looking to marry you off to Olaf's daughter, to secure a partnership between the two companies. I wouldn't be surprised if he turned up at your doorstep with your bride-to-be – Vivian, was that her name? – to force you to get acquainted."

Morgana sounded far too amused at the prospect, something they both knew Arthur had been dreading for many years. He shuddered at the thought. They'd both met Vivian before, several times in fact, and for once, they'd been in perfect agreement: she was spoilt, obnoxious and immature. Morgana had promptly declared them a match in heaven, completely ignoring Arthur's glaring.

"I'd rather die," he retorted tartly. They both knew it wasn't much of a threat, that Arthur strived to make his father proud. And if marrying some blonde airhead would help him achieve that, then so be it.

"Uther would probably kill you if your flat scared sweet, innocent Vivian away," Morgana teased. "Why, I bet she's never had to see a single dirty room in her entire life."

"Shut up, Morgana."

Morgana glanced at the clock on the wall – a present from Lancelot, bought on one of his many trips abroad, and the only piece of originality he'd allowed himself.

"I must be going," she said, getting up. "I told Merlin to come over tomorrow evening. You remember Merlin, right? Tall, skinny, dark hair, worked at that independent coffee shop that closed when Starbucks came to town?"

"Morgana!" he called as he darted after her, cursing his sister's habit of ending conversations on her terms by leaving before he could come up with a convincing counter-argument.

Of course he remembered Merlin. Morgana had fallen in love with the 'quirky, but ultimately charming' coffee shop down the road which had quickly become one of her favourite hang-out spots. Her love for the place had only increased when Merlin had started working there about a year and a half ago and refused to treat Arthur like the paying customer that he was.

"Oh come on, Arthur. It'll do you good. You'll have a clean flat in no time, and he'll put you in your place once in a while. A bit of humility never hurts."

"Funny how you always say that, yet never apply that piece of wisdom to yourself," he sniped as she opened the door.

"You'll thank me later, Arthur."

She closed the door behind her, leaving Arthur to his thoughts and, apparently, his last night alone. He was fairly sure that if there was one thing he wouldn't be doing in the near future, it was thanking his sister.

**

When Arthur came home the next evening, he'd managed to completely forget about live-in cleaners with silly names until he opened his door and was greeted by the smell of freshly cooked dinner.

"Hi! Arthur, right?" a tall, gangly man wearing an ugly apron asked him, holding out his hand. "I'm Merlin."

Arthur ignored the proffered hand. "What are you doing here?"

The man's eyes went wide. "Morgana said she'd told you."

Arthur remained silent and unimpressed, a part of him enjoying the way Merlin squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. It was a talent he'd picked up from his father. Make them uncomfortable, they're much easier to manipulate after that, Uther had once said after a bit too much whisky.

"Told me what?" he asked, his lips twitching as he tried to hide his smile. God, he was _enjoying_ this. That hadn't happened in what felt like a long time.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been fast enough and Merlin had seen him smile. "You prat! You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Oh?" Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "Do I now?"

Merlin refused to back down, raising his chin to meet Arthur's challenge. "Yeah."

Arthur allowed himself a smirk. "So you're my new cleaner?"

Merlin snorted. "Given the state of your place before, I think I'm the first and only person to have ever cleaned it. Did you know you had a fully functional vacuum cleaner, dishwasher and washing machine? They're not just Art Nouveau pieces to decorate your flat, they actually clean things for you."

"Shut up, Merlin. You can't talk to me like that."

Merlin just shook his head, completely unimpressed. "Whatever. Listen, dinner'll be ready in about fifteen minutes. Why don't you go and get changed?"

**

"I have to admit, _Mer_ lin, that you are a rather good cook," Arthur drawled, pouring himself another glass of wine as Merlin took the plates out.

Arthur was surprised, actually. While he knew Merlin could make a wicked cup of coffee, he hadn't really expected him to be able to cook a proper meal. The man was skinny and pale; he didn't exactly look like the kind of person who ate properly. Or at least, that was Arthur's excuse.

It hadn't been anything spectacular, really, nothing that Arthur himself couldn't have prepared if he had been so inclined (or so he liked to think), but after weeks on end of cheap and less cheap take-away… It felt like his taste buds were brought back to life, like he'd been shrouded in fog for so long and sunlight had finally managed to pierce through.

Maybe he was a bit drunk too, drunk on wine and happiness.

Definitely drunk, then.

Merlin came back out carrying pudding – plain old vanilla ice cream, Arthur quickly noticed. He handed Arthur his bowl and sat back down, crossing his arms on top of the table, and looked at Arthur expectantly. It was a bit disconcerting, he felt like Merlin was observing him eat his ice cream.

"What?"

There was something about Merlin. Something in the way he refused to be intimidated by Arthur, even though he was doing him a massive favour. Honestly, rent around here was far out of the reach of a measly barista, it would probably look good on his CV if ever he needed another job to do whatever it was artists liked doing in life.

"Morgana said you had a spare room I could use," he started, clearly expecting Arthur to understand what he was getting at.

"Right."

Merlin just stared at him like he was thick. "You could show me where it is so I can grab my stuff from my car and settle down for the night," he finally said when he realised Arthur wasn't going to get it.

"I thought you'd taken care of that already," he said, feeling defensive. "You had no trouble getting in, even though I didn't give you a key."

"Morgana gave me a key," he said, like it was obvious.

The worst part was that it was obvious. He should have known. Of course Morgana would have a copy of his keys. She'd probably made a copy of the copy he knew his father had of his front door keys. It just went to show how little his father trusted and respected him. And the thought shouldn't hurt him, not anymore. He knew how his father felt about him, he'd made it clear more times than Arthur could count. And to be honest, it wasn't so much what his father felt about him that hurt. It was the fact that no matter what he did, he would never be good enough in his father's eyes. He could present him the world on a golden platter, and it still wouldn't be enough.

"Right," Arthur said, getting up. He'd barely touched his ice cream but the lump in his throat wouldn't let him eat another bite.

The guest bedroom wasn't much, just a creaky bed, a small wardrobe with three old hangers and a chair in the corner, by the window. Arthur didn't really know that many people well enough that they would come and visit him at home, most were rich enough that they would stay at a fancy hotel. It was all just an empty pretence.

"This is it," Arthur said, a bit uncomfortable. He could tell Merlin was looking at it closely, judging.

Contrary to his expectations, though, Merlin just turned to smile at him. "You could fit my old flat in here! This is brilliant!"

"Right," Arthur said, running his hand through his hair distractedly. You could light a whole city for a year on that smile! And even though Merlin couldn't have heard his thoughts, Arthur had to turn his head so that he didn't see him blush. "Bathroom's second door down and the room at the bottom of the corridor's mine."

"Thanks," Merlin said with such warm sincerity that Arthur felt his heart skip a beat. He took a deep breath to calm himself – it was late, he was tired and he'd had a bit too much to drink, that was why he was reacting so strongly. He'd be fine in the morning, he'd be able to watch Merlin smile without blushing like a teenage girl.

He could tell Merlin was about to speak again from the small intake of breath but Arthur couldn't spend another moment in the other man's presence. He had to get out of there, clear his head, get some sleep. He wasn't used to being so out of control of his own body.

"Look, I'm positively knackered, we'll sort this whole mess out in the morning," he blurted abruptly before heading towards his room, not looking back once.

**

When Arthur got back the following evening, he was once again greeted by the wonderful smell of whatever Merlin had made for dinner. The old saying was true, the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. He still hadn't forgiven Morgana for her underhanded ways, but if Merlin kept on cooking like this, Arthur probably wouldn't be able to pretend to be angry for much longer.

"So how long are you planning on being my maid?" Arthur asked, lounging against the counter as Merlin hovered over the bubbling pan.

Merlin turned to glare at him. "Not much longer if you keep calling me your maid."

"Don't be such a girl, _Mer_ lin, it was just a joke."

Merlin rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the pan. "You're hilarious. Did you major in old-fashioned sexist jokes at university or is that just par for the course for prats like you?"

"You wound me, Merlin," Arthur said dramatically, bring a hand up to his heart even though Merlin couldn't see him. "I'll have you know that I studied economics and business management at uni."

"As I said, old-fashioned sexist jokes."

"You can't talk to me like that."

Merlin did turn around at that, staring at him with a raised eyebrow, challenging him. "What are you going to do about it? Fire me? Then who'd keep your place clean?"

Arthur snorted. "I'd hardly call this _clean_ , Merlin. The floor in the lounge is still dirty."

To be fair, Arthur had actually been impressed when he'd stepped into the lounge. Barely a day and Merlin had managed to remove all the empty take-away containers, the miscellaneous discarded items of clothing strewn over the floor. He'd even managed to get rid of the curry stain on the sofa. It had been there for years, resisting Arthur's very best efforts to remove it, and now the sofa looked brand new. It was disconcerting to say the least.

When Arthur had switched the lights on in the bathroom, he'd been shocked to see that the surfaces were clean, almost sparkling as the light hit them

"Well maybe if you took your shoes off at the door, it wouldn't be so much of a problem."

The way Merlin was looking at him had Arthur's stomach in knots. He wanted to give in, let himself have Merlin just this once but his sense of duty wouldn't let him. He diverted his eyes, unable to bear Merlin's look.

"Whatever, you're the cleaner, it's your job to clean it. I'm going to get changed."

He turned, leaving the kitchen as quickly as he could. He still managed to catch Merlin's soft sigh and annoyed "yes, Arthur".

**

After a few months of unbearable tension between them, walking a fine line between flirting and annoyance, Arthur and Merlin had settled into a routine. Arthur would come home and find something to complain about, Merlin would call him a prat and a slob, they'd eat dinner, and Arthur would go to bed while Merlin stayed up half the night working on whatever piece he was currently working on. Sometimes, they would meet in the morning as Arthur got ready for work and Merlin got ready for bed.

Still, despite the fights they got into due to their strong personalities, Arthur was starting to get used to having Merlin underfoot. In fact, even though he could barely admit it to himself, Merlin had become a good friend. It was mostly little things, like setting the coffee machine so that the coffee was ready by the time Arthur got out of bed, or somehow always knowing when Arthur had had a bad day at work and preparing his favourite meals or desserts. Little things.

Sometimes, he'd catch Merlin staring at him when he thought he wasn't being watched, a mixture of fondness and exasperation that was so particular to him. It always made his heart skip a beat (though he'd deny it till his dying breath). No one had ever looked at him like that. To his father, he'd always been a nuisance. To his sister, he'd always been someone to confide in or torment. But neither of them had ever looked at him like that, like they really cared about him.

Tonight, however, was different. He'd finally managed to close the deal he'd been slaving away on for months. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His father had even come by his office to congratulate him on closing the deal, saying that he'd never once doubted Arthur's ability to do so.

"You're in a good mood," Merlin remarked, joining him in the lounge with two beers.

Arthur sank into the sofa with a groan and gratefully accepted the beer Merlin was handing him. "I'm finally done with the French and their annoying habit of either not being at work or being on strike when I need to talk to them."

"We should celebrate," Merlin said, sitting down next to him. "I went shopping today, so you're fully stocked in alcohol."

Arthur soon found out that Merlin's idea of celebrating was completely different from his own.

"I can't believe you're so bad at this," Merlin teased. He put his controller down and grabbed the bottle of vodka from the table.

"Shut up, Merlin."

He was secretly quite glad he was still this articulate. The rules of the game were simple – loser downed a shot of vodka (or whatever else they'd move onto once the bottle was empty). Arthur had readily agreed to the rules but he hadn't anticipated losing quite this badly. In fact, he hadn't won once since they'd started.

They'd been at it for hours. Merlin had found his old Nintendo Wii (not that he'd ever get used to calling it 'old') one day while cleaning. He'd then apparently spent half the afternoon tracking down whatever games Arthur had strewn around the flat.

"I'll admit, you're amazing," Merlin had said that evening. "I didn't think it was possible to be _this_ disorganised. The glasses cabinet, Arthur, honestly. Why the fuck did you put a game there?"

They'd settled on Mario Kart. Arthur didn't really like the Wii Fit games because they kept on telling him he was a bit overweight. It was all muscle, thank you very much. He couldn't tell Merlin that though, so he'd boasted that he was unbeatable at Mario Kart. A fatal mistake.

"You shut up," Merlin slurred, handing him a shot glass. "Can't talk and drink."

Arthur allowed himself a private smile. Fortunately for him, Merlin couldn't seem to hold his drink. Unfortunately, it seemed that no matter how drunk Merlin was, he could still easily beat Arthur.

He looked so warm and comfortable, Arthur just wanted to cuddle up to him and never let him go. It would be so easy. Alcohol had made him loose and pliant, and he was sprawled out on the sofa, not unlike a cat. For such a skinny bloke, Merlin certainly knew how to take up space. All Arthur had to do was pretend to lose his balance and he could press himself against Merlin's lithe body, bury his face in his neck.

"Can too," Arthur argued, trying to ignore all thoughts of cuddling Merlin. And just to prove his point, and maybe because his brain was too focused on not think about Merlin to think things through, he tried to talk as he swallowed the burning mouthful of alcohol, but all he managed was a strangled sound before he started coughing.

"Told you so," Merlin managed between helpless giggles. Still, he reached behind Arthur to rub his arm up and down his back soothingly. "Better?" he asked when Arthur finally managed to stop coughing, his hand stilling on the small of Arthur's back.

Even through the haze of alcohol, Arthur could tell that they were very close. He could feel Merlin's warm breath against his cheek and the places where Merlin's body was pressed up against his felt like a furnace.

When he turned his head slightly to see Merlin, their noses brushed together in a gesture that was so tender, so intimate, that it made his heart ache. Merlin's eyes were wide open, slightly unfocused from the alcohol, but watching him intently. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and Arthur followed it with his eyes, wishing he could follow it with his own tongue.

"Arthur," Merlin murmured, so full of longing that Arthur just leaned in to brush their lips together.

The moment their lips met, it was as if a dam had broken. He just couldn't get enough of Merlin and pulled him closer so that Merlin was straddling his lap.

"Want you," Arthur moaned against the skin of Merlin's neck. "Want you to fuck me, Merlin."

"Fuck, Arthur," Merlin groaned, grinding their hips together. "Let's take this to the bedroom."

And if that wasn't the smartest thing Merlin had ever said. The sofa was barely big enough to support the two of them at the best of times, his bed would be much better.

Merlin scrambled to his feet and pulled Arthur up. They didn't make it very far before Arthur pushed Merlin against a wall and kissed him thoroughly, rubbing his cock against Merlin's through the fabric of their clothes.

They eventually made it to Arthur's room, still kissing as Merlin pushed Arthur down onto the bed. Nothing mattered in that very moment, not when Merlin's hips were flush against his, rubbing against his erection so deliciously.

"Too many clothes," Arthur groaned, grabbing the hem of Merlin's loose T-shirt.

Merlin just kissed him again, sliding his tongue against Arthur's. For a moment, Arthur could have sworn he'd seen Merlin's eyes glow golden but Merlin's tongue quickly drove all coherent thoughts out.

When he opened his eyes again, they were both naked and Merlin was holding a small bottle of lube in his hand. Arthur could have sworn that he didn't keep any lube in his bedroom – Morgana was prone to snooping; she'd probably find it and have a field day. Maybe Merlin had set this up. The thought made Arthur grin.

Merlin quickly prepared him, his long, elegant fingers stretching Arthur's hole gently, easily finding his prostate. Arthur was so close, he was going to come if Merlin didn't stop teasing him with his fingers. He didn't want to come before Merlin was inside him.

"Need you inside me," he gasped as Merlin's fingers brushed over his prostate again.

"Mm, not yet," Merlin moaned. "Want to watch you."

"Merlin," he whined, before flipping them over so that Merlin was lying on the bed and Arthur straddling his hips. He grabbed the bottle of lube, quickly squeezed the cool gel onto his fingers and wrapped them around Merlin's cock.

"Fuck!" Merlin gasped.

"That's the idea, _Mer_ lin. Do get with the programme."

Arthur lowered himself onto Merlin's hard cock, wincing as it stretched him further. It felt so good though, the way Merlin was filling him up, filling a gap in him that he'd never realised before.

"Feels so good, Merlin," he groaned.

They were never going to last, Arthur had known that from the start. It was just too good, too much. They barely managed half a dozen strokes before Merlin grabbed his hips and pulled him down as he fucked up into him, coming with a loud groan.

It didn't take much more for Arthur to come. Just the sight of Merlin, spread out like that beneath him, his face twisted with pleasure as he rode out his orgasm, it was all a little too much for Arthur and he found himself coming the moment he wrapped his hand around his cock.

Once Merlin had recovered, he helped him back down onto the bed, leaving a little space between them. They were still too sensitive, to the point where physical contact started to verge on pain.

"Goodnight, Arthur," Merlin mumbled, closing his eyes as sleep claimed him. Arthur couldn't help but smile fondly at the sight, fighting to keep his eyes just a moment longer to watch Merlin sleep.

As Arthur drifted off to sleep, Merlin's warm body curled up next to him, he couldn't help but think that he'd forgotten something important.

**

Arthur woke up the following morning to a splitting headache and a sore arse.

"Fuck," he groaned, trying to shield his eyes from the sunlight filtering through the barely-closed curtains.

"Here, drink this."

Someone helped him sit up and put a glass of cold water in one hand and two pills in the other. Arthur downed the water and the pills gratefully, the water feeling wonderful against his parched throat.

He cracked an eye open, wincing as the bright light made his headache flare up. Fortunately, the other person in the room quickly pulled the curtains closed, letting the room fall into darkness.

"How are you feeling?"

Arthur opened his eyes again to the sight of Merlin kneeling beside the bed, looking annoyingly fresh and not hung over.

"How do you think I'm feeling?"

Merlin smiled. "Like shit?"

Arthur nodded.

"Do you want to talk about last night?" Merlin asked cautiously, his good mood fading into concern.

"Not really," Arthur muttered. Last night had been a mistake, though what a mistake it had been. Arthur wished it didn't have to be a mistake because he really didn't want this to be the last time they had sex. God, it had been so long and Merlin had felt so good inside him.

"I had fun last night," Merlin said softly but firmly. To Arthur, it seemed like he looked hopeful.

"Merlin," he warned but Merlin was having none of it.

"Didn't you have fun last night?" Merlin was relentless in his onslaught. He reached out and grabbed his hand. "It looked like you had fun last night."

"Merlin, I can't," he said. Merlin gave him a sad smile, squeezing his hand gently, and Arthur could feel his conviction start to slip.

"Why not?" he asked gently.

Arthur sighed. He'd let it slip one evening that he would be expected to marry the person his father chose for him and Merlin must have picked up on his unhappiness. Since then, he'd made several pointed remarks about his father and, in no uncertain terms, told Arthur that he was allowed to be happy.

"You know why, my father –"

"Your father doesn't matter to me, Arthur. I want you to be happy and I think we could be happy together."

Arthur could tell Merlin was going to win this time. He'd had plenty of time to think about Merlin's words, about the fact that he was allowed to be happy. He didn't want Merlin to think he was easy though.

"So you think you could be enough for me then?" Arthur teased. The pain killers were starting to work, he was starting to feel more alive.

Merlin just beamed at him and Arthur's defences crumbled to nothing. "Yes, I really think I could be enough for you."

Arthur just sighed and turned over in bed. "This doesn't mean you've won," he said.

Merlin huffed out a laugh and joined him in bed, wrapping his arms around his waist. "Yes, clotpole."

**

And for four months, everything was fine. A bit awkward, but that was to be expected. The unusual friendship that had built between them despite their differences had never been entirely straightforward, why would a romantic relationship be any different?

Still, Arthur had to admit that it was nice to be able to come home to _someone_ , someone who cared about him (even though neither of them would ever admit to it), someone he could tease and kiss and take to bed with him.

He soon found out that, like all good things in his life, this too was never meant to last.

It started on a Monday morning, because what better to completely turn his life upside down than a Monday? He woke up just after four in the morning to a cold, empty bed, feeling hot and clammy and nauseous.

Thinking that it was maybe something he'd eaten and hoping that it would pass before morning, Arthur kicked the covers off and curled up on his side. With a bit of luck, he might manage another hour of sleep before he had to get up.

It didn't pass though, and before long, Arthur found himself kneeling on the cold tiled floor as he seemed to throw up everything he'd ever eaten in his life. Time seemed to grind to a halt as he bent over the bowl, shivering with cold but far too hot at the same time, feeling absolutely miserable.

When the onslaught finally stopped, Arthur slumped against the wall and ran a shaky hand through his sweaty bangs. He still felt horrible, he could feel a cold breeze against his clammy skin, and the floor was bloody uncomfortable, but Arthur didn't think any of that was going to stop him from falling asleep right then and there.

"You can't sleep here, you'll catch a cold."

Arthur opened his eyes a crack. Merlin was kneeling beside him, his eyes full of concern. The hand on Arthur's shoulder felt so nice and warm, it was like it was warding off the feeling of sickness, leaving him tired and relaxed.

He barely kicked up a fuss when Merlin pulled him to his feet and helped him back to bed. The sheets felt blessedly cool against his hot, sticky skin and he quickly fell into a dreamless sleep, glad that the worst was over.

**

Almost two weeks later, Arthur was still feeling under the weather. He was sick every morning and then spent the rest of the day feeling exhausted, achy and nauseous. If he wasn't careful, the slightest smell could send him running for the men's room.

On top of that, his work was suffering from whatever was ailing him. It was hard enough being a reactive, hard-working businessman when he was in top form, but these days… He found that he couldn't focus on anything for very long and kept on making very basic, but costly mistakes. As if that wasn't enough, every single mistake made him so bloody emotional.

His father, of course, had noticed. Arthur was certain that somewhere, deep inside, his father was concerned about his only son's wellbeing, but his main preoccupation had and would always be his company, his favourite child.

"You really ought to see a doctor, Arthur," Merlin said gently as he tucked him back into bed late one morning. "I'm worried about you."

"You know I don't have time for that," Arthur mumbled into the pillow, fighting to keep his eyes open. He'd spent the last hour or so throwing up, he couldn't afford to waste any more time.

Arthur felt the bed dip as Merlin got in behind him and moaned in pain. The slight jostling made his nausea flare up. He wasn't sure there was anything left in him to throw up but that wouldn't stop his body from trying.

"Sorry," Merlin murmured. He tucked himself as close as possible and wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist, his chest warm and comfortable against Arthur's chilled back, and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "You have plenty of time," he continued, stroking his hand up and down Arthur's side. "You're not going to work today."

"Doesn't mean I can take the day off. Father wants my report by this afternoon."

Most days, Arthur managed to drag himself to the office and put in a half-arsed day's work. On days like today, when everything hurt, however, he would work from home. In either case, he still ended up doing such a poor job that he'd be embarrassed if he could spare the energy.

"Your father can wait, Arthur. You need to take care of yourself."

"Won't be able to take care of myself if I lose my job."

They'd been having this discussion for ages now. Merlin would insist Arthur saw a doctor and Arthur would use work as an excuse to put it off.

"This needs to stop, Arthur," Merlin said gently but firmly. "I'll let you finish that report but the moment you've sent it off, I'm taking you to the doctor."

And that was how, three days later, Arthur found himself nervously waiting for the doctor to announce the results of his blood test.

He didn't know why he was nervous. It was just a blood test and the doctor, Gaius, a friend of the family, suspected a deficiency of some sort, so why was he so nervous? Deficiencies could be treated with dietary supplements, he wouldn't need surgery and he'd be back to normal before long. Just as well, too. He could tell his father was this close to firing him, only son and heir or not. He didn't blame him – Arthur would have fired himself weeks ago if he could have.

Gaius placed his results on the table. "Well, Arthur, your results here say that you're pregnant."

Arthur glared. "I didn't come here to be made fun of," he snapped.

Gaius raised an eyebrow at his outburst, unimpressed. "I'm not making fun of you."

"You're not making fun of me?"

Gaius nodded and suddenly Arthur felt weak all over. Part of him felt as if he'd always known, but he couldn't bring himself to accept that he really was pregnant. He took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face in an attempt to quell the panic building up inside him. It didn't do him very much good.

"How?" he croaked, barely able to control his voice. His mind had gone completely blank, how could he be pregnant? Men didn't just get pregnant, it took magic. Arthur had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't like where his thoughts were taking him.

Gaius shot him a pointed stare. "Don't tell me your father never told you about safe sex."

Arthur groaned, mortified. "Of course he did."

Still, there was that night with Merlin. They'd both been so drunk and he couldn't remember using protection… But surely he wouldn't have forgotten, he wasn't that stupid. Right? And even if he had forgotten, he couldn't be pregnant. He just couldn't. Merlin wasn't a sorcerer, he would have told him. They were friends, surely Merlin would have trusted him.

It was the only explanation though. Arthur sighed and resigned himself. He was pregnant, Merlin was a sorcerer, and he was an idiot. Fuck.

"How long?" he asked.

"I cannot determine that without an ultrasound. Tell me, when do you think this happened?" Gaius sounded much gentler now, sympathetic even. It just made things worse for Arthur. He might have thought he'd accepted his fate, but he became aware of a tiny part of him still hoping that this was a joke. He only became aware of it as Gaius shot it down with his sympathy.

"I'm not entirely sure. Three months, four maybe?"

Gaius nodded. "I'll book an appointment for an ultrasound. I'm assuming you don't want to keep it?" Arthur nodded. "I should warn you though. Pregnancies like yours are tricky. Because of the powerful magic required to make male pregnancy possible, we do not currently have the means or knowledge to remove a foetus after eighteen weeks. I should warn you, it may already be too late for you."

"Fuck."

Arthur didn't know what to think. All he knew was that he could not have this child. Everything would be alright once he'd had an abortion. He could just put this behind him. He refused to think of what might happen if it was indeed too late. It couldn't be, right?

Gaius smiled. "I'll pull a few strings and get you booked in for an ultrasound this afternoon. If it's still time, I'll try to get you booked for an abortion as soon as possible. We'll go over your options after that."

True to his word, Gaius managed to book him in for an ultrasound just a few hours later. As he lay there on the examination table, Arthur felt so alone. He desperately wished someone was there by his side to keep him company and comfort him.

"I'm sorry, Mr Pendragon," the technician said. "To me, it looks like it's been at least twenty weeks."

**

Arthur didn't remember how he'd got home. In fact, he didn't remember much after the technician had announced the bad news. It felt like he was in a trance, so fucking far away. He didn't feel real. And for now, it meant that all his problems felt distant.

He was pregnant, he'd come to accept that. And there was no way for him to get an abortion. He couldn't quite wrap his head around the reality of his situation. He knew there would be consequences but he couldn't quite figure out what they'd be.

And then he'd felt something move inside him, something very real, and the whole world came crashing down around him.

When Merlin came home that evening from whatever it was he'd been doing, Arthur was waiting for him in the lounge. He'd thought about how he was going to tell Merlin all afternoon, how he was going to make him admit to having magic. He'd decided that it would be best to take it slowly, quietly. He'd already had a hard enough day as it was without shouting at Merlin.

The moment Merlin bounded into the room with a cheerful "how did it go?", Arthur lost it.

"I'm pregnant," he shouted. Merlin startled and came to a stop a few inches from Arthur.

"What?"

"Are you deaf? I said I'm pregnant," he snapped. Merlin looked confused but underneath all that, Arthur could see a certain fondness. It made him want to throw things. Here he was, knocked up by Merlin's fault, and the idiot had the gall to seem _happy_ about it.

"How?"

"How do you think, Merlin?" he spat hatefully. Arthur could barely contain his rage at this point. The things he wanted to do to that stupid face. "I suppose you were going to tell me about your magic eventually."

"What?"

"Stop saying that!" Arthur snarled. "You don't get to do that, Merlin. This is all your fault!"

"I'm sorry," Merlin murmured, his eyes downcast. "I should have told you earlier."

Arthur snorted. "Yeah, you really should have."

"Well I didn't think you'd get pregnant now, did I?" Merlin snapped before deflating. "God, Arthur, I'm so sorry. I've been meaning to tell you for weeks now."

"Why didn't you?"

Merlin shrugged helplessly. "I didn't want to ruin this thing between us."

"Well you did," Arthur said unkindly. Merlin flinched and it should have made Arthur feel a little bit better. All it did was make him feel hollow.

"I'm sorry," Merlin repeated. He sounded so upset. A tiny part of him still wanted to take his hand and tell him everything would be okay. But nothing was going to be okay, was it?

Suddenly, Arthur felt exhausted, like all the energy had drained out of him. He just wanted to be left alone so he could pretend, for a short time, that nothing was wrong.

"Leave me," he mumbled. Everything had changed because of Merlin, if he left…

"What?"

Merlin looked crestfallen. For a moment, it made him hesitate. He didn't want to hurt Merlin, not really, but he couldn't bear to be around him.

"You heard me, get out!" Arthur shouted this time, pointing at the door. "Leave me alone!"

"I'll be back for my stuff later," Merlin mumbled before leaving, not even making a fuss.

Somehow, it didn't make Arthur feel any better. He could feel the walls of his flat closing in on him. He had to get out of there. He didn't know where to go or how, but he knew he had to get out of here and fast. He couldn't bear to spend another second here. Everything reminded him of Merlin, of how he'd been so foolish – and now he was pregnant. If only he'd kept his flat clean, if only he'd been firmer with Morgana…

His gaze fell on a letter he'd received from Gwen about a week before he'd discovered what was wrong with him.

Guinevere Smith, Gwen, had been introduced to him early one morning at the start of the summer holidays just after his fifth birthday.

Uther Pendragon was infamous for his passion for knights, to the point that he regularly had armour and swords made and fitted to participate in local medieval fairs with other rich and bored men. His go-to man for this was Gwen's father, a blacksmith by trade.

That day, Gwen had gone to work with her father for the very first time because there was no one available to keep an eye on her. To say they'd hit it off immediately would be an overstatement. In fact, Arthur distinctly and shamefully remembers making Gwen cry when he told her that only men could be knights, but she could be the damsel in distress if she wanted.

She'd come back a few days later with a tiny sword her father had made her, easily breaking Arthur's foam sword. She'd then apologised and said they could share her sword and be knights together.

They'd continued to see each other on a semi-regular basis, every few days when Uther had an event to prepare, or every month or so. And when Morgana officially became Arthur's sister and came to live with him, she joined in too, often ganging up with Gwen to beat him.

It didn't last. Gwen and her father eventually stopped coming up to the Pendragon mansion some time before Arthur's twelfth birthday. At first, he just thought that maybe his father didn't need any new armour a little while, that it was okay, that Gwen would be back to visit him.

He finally understood that Gwen would never come back when the day for one of Uther's favourite medieval fairs came and went with no sign of Gwen or her father. For so long, he'd pretended that it didn't bother him when asked. Friends weren't permanent, they could be replaced. It didn't stop him from feeling lonely.

He eventually got over it, focusing his attention on his studies to make his father proud.

Then one day, he noticed that a certain Guinevere Smith had left a comment on a status made by one of the friends Arthur had made at university. Lancelot had started off studying economics and business management, just like him, in hopes of managing a small charity shop of his own one day. The very nature of their studies, cut-throat and unforgiving, hadn't sat well with him and soon he'd changed courses to his other passion: archaeology.

And now, Gwen and Lancelot were married, travelling from country to country, from dig to dig. Every few weeks, Arthur got a letter from Gwen in the mail where she talked about anything and everything. She could even babble on paper, it never failed to make Arthur smile.

He picked up the latest letter, the one he'd barely had time to read with everything going on in his life. Gwen couldn't help him, but he was certain that her letter would make him feel a bit better for a little while at least.

_Dear Arthur,_

_Sorry it took me forever to reply, I've been so busy recently. It seems like everyone came down with the flu at the same time so I've been run off my feet trying to take care of them. Not that they were in a bad state, mind you, or at least, not bad given that they were ill, but it's my job to make sure they get better. After all, we can't really afford to fall behind on our schedule._

_Glad to hear those negotiations are finally over. Be glad you didn't have to deal with the administrative side of the deal – I don't think Lance will ever get over the nightmare they put him through on that dig in Evreux a few years ago. Now that the contract's been signed, you should come up and see us for a few days. You work too hard, I'm sure a few days would do you a world of good. Besides, Lance keeps on asking how you're doing. Don't expect an actual letter though, you know how he is – too busy and focused on his work._

_At any rate, even if you don't come and see us (though if you don't, I'll sick Morgana on you till you agree), we've managed to get some time off at the same time in about two months, maybe we'll drive down. Then you can buy me that drink you owe me ;) I might even teach you that card trick if you're nice and buy me a second drink._

_Anyway, you take care of yourself and I'll see you soon (you can't escape us forever, Pendragon)._

_Love,_

_Gwen_

By the time he'd finished reading the letter, a half-formed plan was starting to take shape in his mind. Gwen was living somewhere in the middle of nowhere – Croisy-sur-Eure, France, Arthur garnered from a quick glance at the envelop. Lancelot's latest assignment as an archaeologist specialising in the Neolithic had sent him there, and Gwen had joined him, serving as the dig's physician, nurse and health and safety officer.

It was _perfect_. He could just drive down there, take the ferry or the Eurostar or whatever. He was almost certain that Lance and Gwen would let him stay without judging him. He could ride out his pregnancy hidden from the world. No one would ever think of looking for him all the way down there, no one would ever have to know that he was pregnant. Except for Merlin, he thought with a groan. Bloody Merlin. But Merlin would probably never come looking for him in France, assuming that he'd ever thought of coming after Arthur at all. He couldn't really blame him, Arthur probably would have run away too if he'd been in Merlin's position.

He couldn't sit still from the nervous excitement. He had a plan, he might just be able to avoid becoming the laughing stock of the entire community. He was going to get away and everything would be okay.

He went to his bedroom, pulled his bag out of the closet and started throwing clothes in. T-shirts and tracksuit bottoms, mostly. He wouldn't need his suits where he was going, they probably wouldn't even fit in a few months anyway.

The thought of how his body was going to change made him stop in his tracks for a moment. God, he'd spent most of his life taking good care of his body, eating healthily and going to the gym at least once a week. Arthur let out a humourless, desperate laugh at the thought. All that for nothing. He'd slept with a bloody sorcerer and now he was going to become _fat_.

Part of him, the part that was still able to think rationally, realised that he wasn't going to become fat, not really. And once the baby was born, he'd have plenty of time to get his body back to normal given that he would no longer have a job.

Of course, thinking about his pregnancy and how his body was going to change made him feel faint. There was something inside him, right this very moment, growing and leaching his resources, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Arthur shook his head to clear it. Now was not the time to be worrying about things beyond his control. He grabbed a few more clothes, shoving them into the bag haphazardly. It didn't matter that they would be creased when he took them out next. Nothing really mattered at that point other than _getting out of here_.

After that, he grabbed an empty plastic box from his closet and started throwing in things he couldn't bear to leave behind like the clock Lancelot had brought back from one of his travels or his favourite mugs or the few photos he had left of his mother. The bare essentials, things that wouldn't remind him of his father and how, once again, he'd managed to disappoint him. He could only hope his father would never find out.

Arthur had thought of calling his father, at least to let him know that he was quitting. But he wasn't sure he could put himself through that. He knew his father would want to know why, even though he wouldn't really care, and Arthur could never lie to his father. He'd rather disappoint him by leaving quietly than disappoint his father by letting him know he'd slept with a sorcerer and was now pregnant.

Soon, Arthur was loading his few belongings into the boot of his car. With a heavy heart, he turned to take one last look at the place that had been his home, his life for the last few years. His heart thudded painfully in his chest and his eyes were suspiciously wet but he refused to let it get the better of him. God, it hurt that he had to give everything up for some stupid pregnancy he didn't want.

**

Two days later, Arthur was standing in front of an old house in the middle of a deserted village. He'd reached Croisy-sur-Eure a few hours ago and the address on the envelope had taken him to what seemed to be a sort of post office.

Of course, this being France, everyone spoke French. Arthur had prided himself in being able to conduct negotiations in French, but apparently that meant nothing in the real world. The woman at the desk let out an incomprehensible stream of rapid French before Arthur had even finished asking his question.

"Um…" he stammered. "Moins vite, s'il-vous-plaît?"

The woman rolled her eyes, no patience whatsoever for Englishmen out of their depth. "You're looking for the fouille archéologique, yes?" she said in heavily accented French. "Not here, in Haut Croisy, above the village."

"Haut Croisy?" Arthur didn't get it. Wasn't he in Croisy already? Was there another village with that name in the area?

"Yes, Haut Croisy, monsieur," she sighed in exasperation. "It's very easy to find, you just turn left at the rond-point and take the first right. Then you follow the yellow signs, for the fouille. Now excuse me, I must tend to my affairs."

She quickly made her way to the back of the store before Arthur could ask any more questions. God, he hated France already and he hadn't even been here a day.

At least the woman's directions had been correct. He'd quickly found the small group of houses just outside the village where the archaeology team was staying. After that, he'd just got out of his car and checked the mail boxes one by one until he found the one he was looking for.

_"Well, this is it,"_ he thought. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves before raising a shaking hand to press the doorbell.

Gwen answered the door almost immediately. "Arthur?" she said, like she couldn't believe her eyes.

"Gwen, sorry to drop by like this without warning –"

"No, it's fine," she interrupted him, pulling him into the house. "Don't worry about it, this is great! I'm sure Lance'll be pleased to see you too. Or he will be when he gets back from work, he must have found something interesting since he's late."

It was easy to see why Gwen had answered the door so quickly. Their house was tiny. The front door gave straight onto the small kitchen. Arthur sighed. This was never going to work. He couldn't impose on them like this.

"Sorry about the mess," Gwen continued, clearing the sofa so that they could sit down. "I didn't know you were coming or I'd have cleaned."

"Look, I'm sorry," Arthur sighed. "This clearly isn't a good moment, I'll just leave."

"I never said that, silly," Gwen said, grabbing his arm. "Now sit, tell me everything."

There was something about Gwen, something soothing, something that made him think that everything would be okay that made him blurt out "I'm pregnant" the moment he sat down next to her on the sofa.

"What?" Gwen was staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "Pregnant?"

Arthur nodded and let it all out, Merlin, getting drunk and having sex, feeling too sick to work properly, finding out, the fear and mortification he'd felt when he'd found out what was really wrong with him. And Gwen listened to him quietly, without interrupting him, without judging him.

"Oh, Arthur," she said when he was done, pulling him into a hug. "I'm so sorry, you poor thing. I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now. Do you have anywhere to stay?"

"No," Arthur admitted. When she put it like that, it made him feel so selfish. He'd just expected to be able to barge into Gwen and Lance's busy lives so that he didn't have to deal with the consequences of his stupidity.

"Well, you can stay with us then. There's only one bedroom so you'll have to take the couch but I'm sure we can work something out later on."

He'd known Gwen would say that. At times, she could be completely selfless and Arthur had never truly appreciated just how naturally it came to her.

"Gwen, thank you."

For the first time since this ordeal had started, Arthur felt like things might be alright after all.

**

"So, Arthur, how was your day?"

Three weeks had gone by since Arthur had arrived and they'd all settled into a routine. Gwen and Lancelot left for work early in the morning, leaving Arthur to toss and turn uncomfortably on the sofa until he decided that he wasn't going to get any more sleep so he might as well get up. If there were any chores to be done around the house during the day, Arthur would take care of them. At night, they'd all sit down for dinner and Gwen would gently chide him for doing chores, trying to avoid mentioning his 'condition'.

And after three weeks of this routine, Arthur was starting to feel the walls close in around him. He was so used to being too busy to think, working hard to please his father, that now that there was nothing for him to do, he was bored out of his mind. He felt restless with the need to do _something_. He'd visited the whole village and walked as far as he could manage through the surrounding fields. And at night, he had Gwen and Lancelot to keep him company for a few hours before they went to bed and the whole cycle repeated itself.

To make things worse, the lack of privacy was really starting to get to him. Gwen's house only had one bedroom so Arthur had taken the sofa. He knew Gwen and Lancelot felt incredibly guilty about letting him sleep there but they both worked very hard during the day and Arthur was not going to force either one of them out of their bed. Arthur had come to realise that he was probably very spoilt, never having spent a single night without a bed before, but his personal ethics refused to let him take advantage of his friends' generosity even though his back was killing him.

"Oh, I had an absolutely fascinating day," Arthur said bitingly. "I started the day by being sick half the morning, then I spent the rest of the morning dozing on the sofa. I then spent the entire afternoon not doing anything with a quick break at three to settle the cravings brought on by the parasite. You're out of ice cream, by the way."

And ok, maybe it wasn't fair for Arthur to take his frustration out on his best friends, the people who had so kindly let him live with them without questions or judgement, but he just couldn't help it. There was nothing to entertain him, nothing to distract him from the overwhelming thoughts of the baby growing inside him and of Merlin, disturbingly enough. He should hate him for what he'd done but really, whenever he thought of Merlin, all he felt was loneliness. He missed him and ridiculous antics and his terrible jokes and the way he would look at him, like he was the only person in the world who mattered to Merlin. He was completely fucked.

Arthur looked up. Both Gwen and Lance were giving him this sad look they got when Arthur was being unreasonable. It was a look Arthur had come to hate – pity mixed in with understanding. It made Arthur want to throw things.

He didn't want pity, he was _coping_ with his condition, with the stupid mood swings and the stupid cravings and the knowledge that he was eventually going to start showing. And that was just the beginning because there was the swelling, there was the bloating, there were the random aches, there were the sensitive nipples, there were a thousand problems and he was coping. Why couldn't people see that?

"Elena called today," Lance said, changing the subject. Arthur had met Elena once when Gwen and Lance had invited her over for dinner. She was cheerful and clumsy and Arthur had liked her almost immediately. She was also the daughter of the eccentric patron of the dig and, as such, happened to be the person who directly supervised and managed the dig.

"Oh, what did she want?" Gwen asked. "Is she after that form again? I haven't had time to deal with it since it seems like half the people here have come down with the flu and –"

"Gwen, it's not about the form," Lancelot interrupted with a fond smile. "It was to complain about the accountant quitting."

"But she's only just started working here!"

"Exactly, but it gave me an idea. I told Elena I might know someone who could take over."

Both Lance and Gwen were staring at him like they were expecting a reaction from him. It took it a moment to get what they seemed to be hinting at but when he did, Arthur felt his heart speed up in excitement. Could it be?

"You know a bit about accounting, right?" Lance asked.

More than a bit, actually. His father had expected him to be good at _everything_ so he'd learnt everything he could about every other position in the company. "Yeah, a bit," he agreed.

"You could probably work from home, I'm sure Elena wouldn't mind," Gwen added. "I mean, if you want to. I was just thinking, with your condition, it'll probably be less stressful for you to not have to worry about driving to work and dealing with other people and I'll shut up now before I make things worse."

Arthur smiled. "Gwen, it's fine."

It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A job, an actual job, something to keep him busy during the day. He wouldn't be so dependent on Gwen and Lance anymore. He couldn't wait! He didn't even have the job yet and he was already excited about it.

"I'll call Elena then, let her know she has a new accountant?" Lance asked with a smile.

"Yeah, that would be great. Thanks."

**

One of the main advantages of his new job was the fact that he was given access to one of the unoccupied houses. As much as he'd like spending time with Gwen and Lance, it was really nice to have his own space and to not have to put up with pitying stares all the time. He also felt better now that he wasn't imposing on them, he felt less like an ungrateful leech and more like a friend.

He'd taken to his new job like a fish to water. He'd ordered a few books online in order to further his knowledge of the subject and Elena had gone easy on him at first, making sure he knew exactly what she wanted him to do and how to do it. It wasn't long before he didn't need any help at all.

The job helped him a lot too, not just in terms of financial security or independence. It also helped him cope with his condition, keeping his mind off it for extended period of time. And it was just as good because he was showing now. At first, it had just been a small curve where his stomach had once been flat, making him look fat more than anything. But it hadn't stopped there, it had continued growing until it was big and round. There was no doubt that he looked pregnant now.

And he hated it, he fucking hated it. Up until he'd started showing, it had been easy to ignore the symptoms, the baby moving – he could pretend it was all in his mind. He could pretend he was being mindful of his diet because he wanted a fresh start in life, a healthier lifestyle with none of his previous vices, and not because he was pregnant and taking care of the baby that he didn't even want. It wasn't exactly the baby's fault either that Arthur was in this situation and no matter how much he resented it, he couldn't bring himself to do anything that could harm it. Now that he was showing, there was a visible reminder of his problem and it made coping that much harder.

Gwen had caught on quickly enough. She first mentioned it during one of his regular check-ups when he'd refused to lift his shirt to let her make sure the baby was alright.

"It'll soon be over, Arthur," she'd said, plying him with the chocolate ice cream she kept in the room next to her surgery. Arthur resented being treated like a child, but at the same time, he really was craving ice cream. "I'd say you've only got another two months to go."

"Well I want it to be over with now," Arthur had grumbled around a spoonful of ice cream. "I don't want to grow fat."

Gwen had sighed. "You're not going to become _fat_ , Arthur, you're –"

"Don't say it," Arthur had snapped, interrupting her. "I don't want to hear those words."

"Sorry. But it'll be over before you know it. And the belly's just temporary, it'll go away soon enough. I'm looking into exercise routines for you to do when you've given birth, you'll be back to normal as soon as possible."

"Thanks, Gwen," Arthur had said with a genuine smile. He didn't really feel better about showing but it always made him happy when either Gwen or Lance did something that showed him how concerned they were, how seriously they took his condition.

Arthur groaned as somebody started pounding on his front door. The doorbell had rung a few moments before but he'd chosen to ignore it. Now that he was eight months pregnant, his mobility was seriously affected. He didn't move much unless he didn't have a choice. He also had to finish going over the accounts for the month before the end of the day and he was having a hard time concentrating given that the baby had kept him up all night _again_ , moving and kicking.

Besides, he'd figured that if it was anybody important, they'd have called him on his mobile. The few people he had left in his life knew that Arthur was unlikely to answer the door if he hadn't been warned beforehand.

Arthur pushed himself out of the chair with little difficulty for once and slowly walked the short distance from his desk to the front door.

He'd been about to snap at whomever was trying to bring his door down but the words died on his lips when he found himself face to face with the man who had put him in this situation.

"Merlin?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Arthur, hi!" Merlin gave him a sheepish grin and a silly wave that Arthur shouldn't have found adorable. He saw Merlin's eyes flit down to his stomach before coming back up to his face. "You're looking good," he added after a moment.

"Of course I am, I always look good."

If there was one thing Arthur had learnt from his pregnancy, it was the ability to remain positive. He might hate the fact that he was pregnant, even though his feelings had lessened slightly over time, but that didn't mean he didn't look great. He wouldn't let his condition steal his self-esteem.

"True," Merlin agreed. The smile on his face faded slightly, replaced with concern. "How are you feeling?"

Arthur shrugged. It was complicated and not really something he wanted to talk about. There were a few moments where he didn't quite forget he was pregnant, but it wasn't at the forefront of his mind. Overall, he'd say that he was coping with a situation that had always been out of his control. He couldn't wait to get his body back, to put this behind him forever.

"I'm hungry," was all he said in the end. It wasn't a lie. He felt like he was always hungry these days. He'd come to terms with it a while back. It was just one of those things that came with pregnancy, and just like his pregnancy, it would come to an end once the child was born. At least it wasn't all going to become fat.

Merlin followed him inside to the kitchen. Arthur really hoped that he wouldn't comment on the mess.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked as he rummaged through his cupboards for the pack of ginger biscuits. He didn't really want to encourage Merlin to stay but it would be rude not to ask.

"Some water, if you don't mind," Merlin said. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to Arthur. Instead, he seemed to be busy taking everything in, every little element of Arthur's fall from glory.

"Water, right. I can do that," Arthur muttered. Of course Merlin would ask for something he kept at the bottom of the fridge. He took a deep breath, opened the fridge and crouched in front of it, grabbing the bottle of water. That was the easy part, gravity helped a lot. Getting back up was the hard part. Arthur really hoped he'd manage easily, he didn't want Merlin to think he was incapable.

No such luck, he thought.

"Here, let me help you," Merlin said, at his side in an instant.

"I'm fine, don't touch me!" Arthur snapped, mortified.

Merlin didn't listen to him, putting his hands under Arthur's arms and pulling him up. _"As usual,"_ Arthur thought darkly. When had Merlin ever listened to him? It was just like him too, Merlin always went out of his way to help other people when he thought they needed help. Arthur might need help but he didn't want help.

To make things worse, Arthur's eyes felt suspiciously wet and there was a knot in his throat. Bloody hormones. He was _coping_ , he'd coped just fine for this long and he'd continue coping once Merlin was gone. Unfortunately, that thought just made him feel worse.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked quietly. He took a deep breath to steady himself, hoping he wouldn't start crying, and turned to face Merlin. "Why are you here, Merlin?"

"I didn't actually know you were here," Merlin started, fumbling a bit helplessly with the hem of his T-shirt, the way he always did when he was nervous. "Gwen told me. It was an accident!" he added before Arthur could even react. "I dropped by, a surprise, you know? I was in France anyway, thought I'd come and see them. And you know Gwen, she's a bit rubbish with secrets."

Arthur huffed a laugh, that did sound very much like Gwen. It wasn't exactly a secret that he was here. He probably would have made it a secret if he'd known Merlin knew Gwen.

"How do you know Gwen?" he asked, trying to change the subject. Now that he was _this_ close to figuring out why Merlin was here, he found that he didn't really want to know. Could he really be blamed? He didn't really want to hear that Merlin was just curious to see how he was doing.

"We went to the same university," Merlin said, annoyingly vague. Merlin had studied a bunch of art-related subjects, there was no way he could have just met Gwen. Merlin's eyes met his. He looked so small and vulnerable in that moment. "You left," he added quietly, accusing.

"Well what was I supposed to do, stay?" Arthur snapped.

Arthur was angry, he was so fucking angry he wanted to throw things. How could Merlin stand there, in his kitchen, and accuse him of leaving? He had no idea what he'd been through, he had no idea what it would have been like for him to stay, to become a laughing stock. Arthur Pendragon, knocked up by his cleaner who just happened to be a fucking sorcerer. Of course he'd left, it was embarrassing enough as it was, here, where few people really knew him. Back home, he wouldn't even have had the small comfort of having a small group of friends to support him, whose opinion of him hadn't been irremediably changed by this stupid pregnancy he didn't even want.

"Yes," came Merlin's reply, just as quiet as before, full of longing. "I missed you."

And just like that, Arthur felt the anger drain from his body, leaving him feeling tired and exposed. He wasn't even sure if it was a mood swing or if it was just the effect Merlin had always had on him. Neither option was particularly appealing to him.

"Merlin," he sighed. "It's not that easy, I couldn't stay. You know I couldn't."

Merlin nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. God, Arthur. I'm so sorry, I never meant for this to happen." He reached out to take Arthur's hand in his. Arthur didn't even bother resisting, it felt so nice after all those long months of feeling so completely alone. "I would have done anything for you," Merlin added. "If there was a way to terminate the pregnancy so that you didn't have to go through this, I would have found it. I wanted to help you."

"It's too late for that now, Merlin."

"I know, I'm sorry," Merlin repeated.

"Stop being sorry, _Mer_ lin, it's not going to change anything." He was tired of hearing that word, tired of all the pity directed at him. He didn't want people to feel sorry for him. He just wanted people to ignore his condition, how hard was it to understand?

"Yes, sorry. I mean – Sorry, I didn't mean to –"

Arthur laughed. God, it had been so long since he'd seen Merlin fumble like that, he'd missed it so much. "Idiot."

"Prat," Merlin answered automatically, a weak smile tugging at his lips. "Does Morgana know you're here?" he asked.

"Of course she doesn't know I'm here."

If there was one thing Arthur regretted, it was not telling his sister. At the same time, he didn't want to face her looking like this, with his huge belly and stupid hormones that made him cry. It would have been mortifying.

"I thought she was going to kill me when she found out what had happened," Merlin laughed. "She asked me why I'd left you and why I wasn't taking care of you and she kept on threatening to cut off my bollocks. It was a bit scary. I don't think she quite believed me when I said I had no idea where you were."

"How did she find out?"

Merlin shrugged. "You know Morgana, she has her ways with these things."

Arthur huffed out a laugh. That really did sound like the Morgana he knew. "How did you get her to stop threatening your manhood?" he asked teasingly.

"It wasn't easy," Merlin laughed before sobering. "I think she realised how desperate I was to find you. I looked everywhere, Arthur, _everywhere_. I felt so guilty for not telling you about my magic and knocking you up. I wanted to be there for you but I couldn't find you."

"When do you have to leave?" Arthur asked, changing the subject abruptly. He didn't really want to break the mood – it had been so long since he'd had a good laugh – but he couldn't let himself get his hopes up if Merlin was just in town for a few days to visit Gwen.

"Do I really have to leave?" Merlin countered.

"Don't you have a job to get back to?"

Merlin shrugged. "I'm a proper artist now," he said. "People are starting to buy my stuff, it's pretty neat actually. But I can be an artist anywhere."

"Even here?" Arthur asked in a small voice. He hated how pathetic he sounded. He didn't really need Merlin to stay but he couldn't deny how much he'd missed this ridiculous man.

"Especially here. If you'll let me stay?"

"There's only one bed," Arthur said.

"I'll take the couch," Merlin replied immediately with a warm smile.

"Oh no, Merlin. We'll share the bed." Arthur smirked. "That way, I can wake you up in the middle of the night when I want food. I don't think you realise how hard it is to be pregnant."

"I don't mind."

Arthur laughed. Merlin really had no idea what he was getting himself into. "You won't be saying that after three days of being woken up several times during the night."

Merlin grinned. "I really won't mind. I want to do this for you. Trust me."

"You're an idiot," Arthur said but his smile was fond. "Bet you you won't last a week."

"You're on," Merlin replied with a similar smile.

**

But Merlin did last a week. In fact, he lasted all the way through the remainder of Arthur's pregnancy without a single complaint, getting food for him in the middle of the night, keeping the place clean, holding him tight whenever he felt upset and stupid and ugly, and even buying furniture for the baby. And even though he'd never admit it, Arthur was glad Merlin was there with him, keeping his mind from obsessing about his condition.

"I'm not asking you to become the baby's father or anything," Merlin had said that evening, when Arthur had glared at him and asked him why the fuck he'd bought all that nonsense when the baby was going to be put up for adoption as soon as it was born. "But I want to be the baby's father, Arthur. You won't have to have anything to do with him or her, I promise."

Arthur had relented. He'd always been worried about the baby's future if he didn't keep it. It was never enough to make him seriously consider keeping the child, but some nights, it was all he could think about. What if it was never adopted, what if it was adopted into an abusive family, what if the whole process left it messed up? At least with Merlin, he knew the baby would be happy, that Merlin would love it unconditionally. It meant he could keep tabs on the child he'd carried for nine months without having to be deeply involved in its life.

It had been six months since Arthur had had the caesarean, bringing a tiny, healthy baby girl into the world. He was starting to recover from the ordeal, slowly recovering his bodily autonomy as the residual effects of his pregnancy faded. At first, he'd thought he'd never be able to lose the huge belly he'd acquired during his pregnancy but with Gwen's help and a proper exercise routine, it was almost back to normal.

His stomach had been his main worry – as long as he still had it, he still viewed himself as 'pregnant' and it made putting the entire ordeal behind him very difficult. He could barely see it now, and he felt comfortable wearing tighter clothes.

He'd also had a brief visit from Morgana, just days after giving birth. She'd hugged him fiercely then slapped him for disappearing without a word, for making her worry even though she hadn't said it.

"You should have told me," she'd said. "I would have helped you."

"I know, I'm sorry," Arthur had said. Part of him had always known his sister would help him, even though she would have teased him mercilessly, but it had been buried deep beneath a thick layer of fear and doubt that was only now starting to dissipate.

She'd hugged him again. "You're an idiot. I can't stay, I'm due in Paris tomorrow for a business meeting. But this isn't the end, I'm not done being upset at you."

She'd scheduled another visit, longer this time. He would be picking her up from the airport in less than a week now. She'd said she'd bring him most of the stuff he'd left behind with his old life, salvaged before Uther sold the flat that he'd never owned. "But only if you let me take the bed," she'd said. "Your sofa is vile, Arthur. I will not sleep on it ever again."

Merlin had moved out after the birth. He now lived in the house right next to Arthur's so that they both got to see each other several times a day but Arthur didn't have to deal with the worst aspects of having a newborn under the roof.

They'd taken their relationship slowly at first, keeping it platonic while they slowly rebuilt their trust in each other. There had been times when he could barely resist Merlin, where he'd wanted to pull him close and never let him go, and he knew Merlin had had similar thoughts, but they'd both resisted and for that, Arthur was glad. It had made the moment they finally agreed to take things to the next level even sweeter from the longing.

He looked over to where Merlin was putting Freya, named after an old school friend of Merlin's, to bed and he couldn't help but smile fondly at the sight. Merlin seemed to have a natural gift for fatherhood and Arthur was slowly coming to terms with Freya's existence, at least as long as she remained quiet.

"All done," Merlin whispered once he was done tucking Freya in. He wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist and let his head drop to Arthur's shoulder. "Thanks for waiting."

"You promised me dinner, I wasn't exactly going to walk out on you before eating," Arthur teased, keeping his voice down so as to not wake the baby up.

"Prat." Merlin lifted his head to kiss him slowly, lazily.

"Whatever, Merlin. Some of us are starving here."

When Merlin leaned in to kiss him again, Arthur couldn't help but think that he didn't mind starving if it meant Merlin would keep on kissing him like that.


End file.
